By Meg Curran
and Jesus said unto them, slappeth this bag, for it is my blood
The first time I saw the Jesus blood gallon,
I was blown away. Fun fact from a church
bartender, Jesus’s blood is Franzia, the wine
the people deserve. Relatable because I did
go through a phase once where my blood
was also Franzia, and if you really think about
it, a lot of his followers seem box wine drunk,
so yeah, it tracks.
I used to eat the unblessed wafers like chips,
just chompin’ on JC’s body like nothing. You
can buy them on Amazon, though I feel like
if Jesus was real, canonically he’d be super
pissed that he can be purchased from Bezos.
At church as a kid, it was grape juice and
wonderbread, (Dollar General brand when my
pastor grandpa was having a rough month).
I saw Jesus being cut up from a loaf in the
kitchen, kinda broke the mystique, and like,
what is this, the plasma of Jesus? At another,
Jesus’s body was Hawaiian bread and skinny girl
wine because too many white moms were
complaining about calories.
Mom said He did not die for our sins so He
could be represented be Franzia, but I mean
transubstantiation is transubstantiation. And
you’re saying loaves and fishes party boy JC
doesn’t get down with the Franzia frenzy?
Personally, I think Jesus was for the people…
and everyone has access to Franzia, and it
needs to be cheap and bad to best resemble
what Jesus had at the Last Supper anyway, and
JC also mugged money lenders & hung out with
sex workers, pretty sure he wasn’t the pretentious
DICE DESIGN, ACTUALLY
Make Canadians smokers again
Virgil Abloh lives on, and the girls who
used to write quotes on ciggies and post
pics on Tumblr are going to eat this up.
But was there not a focus group? Sorry
but they accidentally made something
that looks quite cool, better than the
boring plain ones. How’d they manage
to make cigarettes look cooler? Didn’t
know they could. Like an Off-White or
Balenciaga collaboration. Like new
packaging for an A24 coffee table book.
Like a depressing fortune cookie. Like
they’re having a conversation with me.
Makes me wanna collect them like happy
meal toys, so I’ll have all the phrases.
Only, I’m in the U.S., can I import a pack?
Want these all framed together, put on
my wall. Poison in every puff is kind of a
killer tagline. Won’t work but will make
for cool pictures.
CANCELED, DUE TO ROE
Ghost girl summer has replaced hot girl summer
But we’ve been busy. I’m vowing
the swiftest revenge. So nice to
hear all of you’ve been doing this
too. Finally, something I can get
I will descend into this chaos and
amplify it, set the old man house
on fire, terrify everyone with our
ghastly visages. Can I be the victim
in the dramatic murder scene? I
want to add some extra drama to
it. I have an old Hollywood murder
robe with feathers, so I’m going to
be the haunting siren, the one in
human form, dresses in long skirts,
my sunset yellow floor-length gown.
You can find me in the lit archway
under the abandoned water tower,
in the graveyard, in a feverish episode
lain out in a consumptive state
while my love looks on worriedly.
I’ll meet you in the graveyard – we’re
only seen if caught. I’m bringing a
snake in a jar and a bountiful supply
of butterfly pea flower. I’ll bring the
belladonna and shovel. We’ll have
raspberry wine and fresh baked berry
scones. Will find my hunting shoes.
Meg Curran is a writer currently based in Norway. She researches and writes about culture, heritage, and food. Her poetry has appeared in In Parentheses and is forthcoming in JAKE, Talk Vomit, The Basilisk Tree, and AURAL.